Disobedience
by tigers-snipers-and-rifles
Summary: Sebastian wants Jim to notice him more and goes to drastic measures to get what he wants, but in the end it isn't exactly the sort of attention he was most hoping for. {MorMor}


"What the _hell_ were you thinking?" Jim snarled angrily, roughly forcing the sniper's chin up so he had no other option but to stare back into those cruel, dark eyes. Of course, this was not the type of attention from his boss that he wanted, or that he had planned on getting, but Sebastian was stuck with it for now, kneeling obediently in front of the large mirror in Jim's bedroom, his body exposed and littered with cuts and scabs, and his head bowed in shame of himself.

_Filthy_, the criminal had called him, screaming foul insults and beating him until the pain rapidly surged through his veins and caused him to crumple onto the floor in agony. Imbecile, idiot, futile, worthless nothing; he had heard them all, Jim's words flooding his mind and making him cringe horribly from the guilt, each harsh word trapped inside his head.

It had seemed a good idea at the time, attempting to kill the client Jim had been exchanging business with and having endless amount of meetings to discuss their plans on an ambassador they both wanted dead.

Jealous, he was. Sebastian couldn't help it. The man was stealing Jim's attention away from him, and the sniper did not appreciate that at all. He thought Jim would understand, but now the client had refused to continue any further business with the criminal and his men had gotten hold of Sebastian before ruthlessly getting their revenge on this client's behalf.

"Sir, I thought -"

"You thought _what_? That I would think it was a brilliant idea, Moran? That killing him would be clever?" Jim rudely interrupted, spitting each and every word in the sniper's face. "Do you realise what you've done?" He shouted, causing Sebastian to flinch uneasily at his dangerously bitter tone.

Sebastian nodded quickly, hating the thought of aggravating Jim further. What he would do to him if he even dared to speak back in a way that the other man didn't like. If looks could kill, he would have dropped dead in an instant. Jim's black eyes glared at him as he hovered over the sniper, circling him as though he was a lion about to pounce on his vulnerable, weak prey.

"Look at yourself," The Irishman growled, forcing Sebastian's chin forward so he stared back at his own reflection with Jim standing behind him. "Look at what you let them do." Jim's piercing eyes met Sebastian's in the mirror; he wanted to look anywhere but at his own reflection. Where his scars had been, more had joined them, covering his body, his chest, arms, legs, everywhere. Slice wounds were left caked with blood, a black eye beginning to form and luckily enough he had been left with an _almost_ broken neck. And to make it worse, the criminal had stripped him and made him feel guiltier about it by _making_ him look at what he had caused upon himself.

"Are you proud of yourself, Moran?" Jim asked sternly, receiving a violent shake of the head from his reckless employee. "I think I need to teach you another lesson." He remarked, a malicious smirk dancing across his lips.

Sebastian watched Jim's reflection in the mirror as a flash of silver emerged from the shorter man's pocket and was threateningly waved at him.

"Sir, please..."

"You wanted attention from me, Moran, and now you have it." Jim walked around the sniper and stood in front of him, crouching down until he was at eye level. He led the blade down the sniper's cheek to his jaw, leaving a thin, red line of blood in the process. It wasn't enough to hurt the man, but he had barely gotten started yet.

"Get up," He ordered, and obediently, Sebastian did as he was told. "Good boy." Jim praised, pondering for a moment before abruptly slashing the knife across the other's face, a pained whine escaping the sniper. He watched, his dark eyes lighting up excitedly as blood was drawn and trickled down Sebastian's cheek.

"Are you going to interfere with my business again when you're not supposed to?" Jim kneed him in the gut and shoved him aggressively so he collapsed unceremoniously against the wall. The criminal's hand connected with Sebastian's throat before he could regain his balance, roughly pinning him to the wall, his nails digging into the taller man's wind pipe.

"N-No, Sir." Sebastian managed to choke out, his voice hoarse and coming out as nothing but a terrified croak. He inhaled deeply to try and keep his breathing at its normal pace, but found that he was gasping for air the more pressure Jim put on his throat, faint washing over him.

Using his free hand, the Irishman firmly gripped the back of Sebastian's neck and flung him back onto the floor again, instantly straddling his chest and pinning him down as he applied his body weight upon him. "Will you be doing it again?" He hissed, dragging the blade down the sniper's neck, shifting down slightly whilst he pulled it away.

"No, S-Sir." Sebastian confirmed, biting his tongue to stop himself from making any noise, not wanting to give Jim the pleasure of that. He couldn't. No, he wouldn't. It was not worth it. He didn't want to show the criminal he was weak, when really he wasn't.

The blade sliced deeper, savagely being trailed down his chest this time. Sebastian couldn't help but let out a cry, his chest burning as though he had been coated in oil and the flames were licking at his sides, consuming him and eating at his insides. Hot tears pricked at his eyes from the endless pain, daring to well up and pool over. No. Sebastian Moran did _not_ cry.

"P-Please, S-Sir," He stammered, not wanting to beg of all things, but having no other choice. He needed it to stop.

Jim's lips quirked into a sadistic grin, insane and unforgiving. "Oh, did I make you cry? How horrible of me," He said in mock sympathy, his tone abruptly softer for effect. "There now, 'Bastian, would you like me to stop the pain? Maybe... fix it for you?" He cooed, using a single finger to wipe the excess water from Sebastian's eyes. The sniper winced at the touch, but didn't pull away, and only gave a small nod in response.

"Say _please_." Jim taunted, the knife still gripped tightly between his fingers, dripping with the sniper's blood.

"Please."

"Now, was that so hard?" He pouted, using his free hand to cup Sebastian's face and caress his cheek lightly with his thumb. He caught the other's eyes watching him expectantly and raised the knife to his lips, allowing his tongue to run over the blade to lap up the blood. Sebastian only swallowed hard as he didn't tear away from their gaze, his stomach churning as he stared at Jim for what seemed like hours.

Swiftly, the criminal pulled the blade away and placed it under the sniper's chin with a flicker of a smirk, his eyes cold again. "Do it again and I'll do worse, Moran." He snarled, his voice like acid. With that, Jim climbed off him and brushed his suit down, getting rid of any creases.

Sebastian slowly sat up and winced from the agonising pain in his chest, but was met with a polished black shoe holding him back down again. "Stay there." Jim warned, lifting his foot off the taller man. He cocked his head, examining what he had done. Sebastian was in enough pain by the looks of it, which certainly satisfied him.

"But Sir -" Sebastian tried to protest.

"Shut up." Jim snapped, savagely kicking the sniper, once, twice, three times. He had lost count by the time Sebastian buckled over and rolled onto his side with a groan, his body trembling from either pain or fear, Sebastian didn't know. He kept his eyes shut tight, wishing the pain away, hoping it would somehow leave him. He hadn't heard Jim leave a few moments later and silently close the door behind him, feeling smaller and not himself as he shook violently, drowning in his own pool of blood.


End file.
